


the opposite of hunger

by periphas (earthshaker)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Rule 63, The Whorification of Ushijima Wakatoshi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/periphas
Summary: The loud snap of gloves shocks her out of her thoughts and Ushijima instinctively spreads her legs, mouth dropping open, shivering when she hearsgood, Ushijima-san, the taste of latex thick on her tongue as she waits for Sakusa’s next order.Ushijima’s thoughts grind to a halt and her eyes fly open, ears burning. She is at thedentist's. She isnotin her bedroom, with her girlfriend. These arenotSakusa’s fingers in her mouth even if the latex tastes the same; Ushijima’s body recognized actions attributed to Sakusa purely by sound and taste, jumped the gun and now she’s on her way to aroused at adental appointment, of all places.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	the opposite of hunger

**Author's Note:**

> whenever life stresses me out i find myself writing rule 63 and um. it has been a continuous month of stress and now i have 5000 words i might as well yeet out? this one is for all ushisakuists who are also lesbians and are heathens; happy ushisaku day! i don't think that there are any hard kinks in this but if there are, let me know and i'll tag for them and if there are, please take it with the assumption that off-screen negotiation has occurred as they're an established relationship at this point. there's some canon divergence as this fic assumes that ushijima doesn't go to polandthe title comes from **outbound by hieu minh nguyen** , particularly with this image in mind, which i felt was very resonant of how i perceive ushisaku. i hope you enjoy!
>
>> The opposite of hunger is not satisfaction, it is birth. It is what makes a man chisel a face into stone. It is what drives the body to lie in the fresh snow. It is what quiets the world when she pulls you in close. 

There are few things that would make Ushijima miss training, as the national team has come to learn. She’s always at the arena half an hour before training actually starts, religiously warming up and often the last to leave, after heated discussions with Iwaizumi-san. Her announcement that she won’t be present for afternoon practice because she has a dental appointment surprises a few of them and has Bokuto and Atsumu pulling an expression Ushijima didn’t know the human body was capable of. In her periphery: Sakusa rises into the air, graceful in her all-black training attire, and spikes a ball home with a spin that stumps Hinata, sending it veering to the right. Ushijima doesn’t have to look at her to know her teeth are bared in a grin, radiating the smugness of a clean kill. 

“You need to get your teeth checked regularly?” Bokuto had asked when Ushijima brought up her standing appointment with her dentist three times a year.

Ushijima’s eyes immediately seek Sakusa, catching the barely-disguised horror in the twist of her mouth, an expression that has Ushijima’s lips quirking in fondness as she explained that _yes, Bokuto-san, it’s recommended you see a dentist twice a year, why don’t you ask Akaashi-san to set you up?_ Bokuto pouted, citing longstanding anxiety of the dentist and the conversation set aside in favor of resuming spiking drills. Sakusa had caught Ushijima’s hand by the sidelines, squeezing once. Ushijima had squeezed in return, tucked the warm sparkle in Sakusa’s eyes into the corner of her heart, and shuffled off to her appointment.

The last time Ushijima experienced any sort of anxiety at the dentist, she was 10 years old. Now, as she follows the nurse to the dentist's suite, she’s as relaxed as she can be. She has a new dentist today—something about Fukuda-sensei on holiday—dark hair tied back, greeting Ushijima with a warm smile as she gestures for Ushijima to take a seat. 

The dentist runs through perfunctory questions, Ushijima answering them as concisely as she can and getting settled in as soon as the chair is adjusted, her mind drifting the moment she’s flat on her back and the light flipped on, closing her eyes against the glare. Sakusa and her need to do the groceries soon, they’re down to the last carton of eggs and there’s no kale for their green shakes. They have to confirm Aki’s vet appointment for next week. Ushijima needs to pick up the dry cleaning on her way home. 

The loud snap of gloves shocks her out of her thoughts and Ushijima instinctively spreads her legs, mouth dropping open, shivering when she hears _good, Ushijima-san_ , the taste of latex thick on her tongue as she waits for Sakusa’s next order. 

Ushijima’s thoughts grind to a halt and her eyes fly open, ears burning. She is at the _dentist's_. She is _not_ in her bedroom, with her girlfriend. These are _not_ Sakusa’s fingers in her mouth even if the latex tastes the same; Ushijima’s body recognized actions attributed to Sakusa purely by sound and taste, jumped the gun and now she’s on her way to aroused at a _dental appointment_ , of all places.

It goes as smoothly as it can with Ushijima tamping down the urge to flinch every time the dentist’s fingers linger in her mouth a beat too long, the rest of her body held stiffly. The focus exerted over controlling her outward responses allows Ushijima to till over what she knows about herself. A little bit like putting a puzzle together: the depersonalized touch holding her jaw open, the press of fingers against Ushijima’s tongue, the clinical taste—and setting—of the gloves. It reminds Ushijima starkly of the fact that it’s been two weeks since Sakusa and her have had sex—her last orgasm is at the forefront of her mind now—Sakusa’s dildo buried to the hilt, two gloved fingers on Ushijima’s tongue and a gloved hand palming at Ushijima’s tits. There’s never a fixed point of power between the two of them, rather, an exchange freely given, but Ushijima _does_ enjoy taking the backseat as Sakusa takes care of her. The acknowledgment—and slow acceptance—strings Ushijima with tension, the slow movement of tectonic plates along a fault, two equally powerful forces waiting on a trigger. 

It’s a relief when the dentist _finally_ clears her. It couldn’t have taken more than an hour, but time had slowed down in the chair, Ushijima’s synapses firing at overdrive. Ushijima snaps into autopilot out of some lingering self-preservation instinct as she makes the trip from the dentist to the dry cleaners to their apartment complex. Crossing the threshold of their home feels like a tangible act of leaving her worries at the door, welcoming the knowledge that Ushijima will be safe and cared for within the walls of their home. 

“I’m home,” Ushijima calls out, arranging her shoes on the rack and shuffling into her slippers.

Aki is curled up on the couch and Sakusa’s _welcome home_ echoes from the bedroom, Ushijima padding towards the room. Knowing Sakusa is home makes Ushijima’s gut twist tight. They’d moved past hesitance a while back—a year ago, to be accurate, that’s when they had moved in together—but she’s still nervous with anticipation. If Sakusa wasn’t home, Ushijima would have rubbed out a methodical orgasm in the shower, cooked both of them a nutritious dinner, and ended her day quietly reading a health article next to Sakusa. And while Ushijima is perfectly fine with getting off on her own, she’s come to enjoy—and rely on—sex with Sakusa and its added benefit of being a destresser, something Iwaizumi-san consistently points out Ushijima lacks in her meticulous routine, something she can ask for now that Sakusa _is_ home. 

“That was fast,” Sakusa says, her eyes pointedly fixed on Ushijima’s clothes.

Ushijima snorts softly; the list of things that get under Sakusa’s skin will always be funny—she hates public gyms and grocery shopping, outside clothes and public transportation—but is perfectly okay with Aki licking into her mouth or getting muddy from ATV trekking. Ushijima adores Sakusa and her contradictions, and with all the shame stamped out of her from a lifetime in volleyball, comfortably strips where Sakusa can see her; Sakusa’s expression brightens considerably when Ushijima is down to her underwear. It’s one part Sakusa’s distaste for outside clothes but two parts, very much, desire for Ushijima. 

The weight of Sakusa’s gaze before she’d stepped into the bathroom is as pervasive as the steam in the shower; Ushijima doesn’t linger, thorough and perfunctory with her shower, eager to return to Sakusa. She _does_ fill the tub—Sakusa’s sure to want a soak after, like she always does. Ushijima forgoes a bra, tugs on one of Sakusa’s shirts, fidgeting a moment when she realizes how tight it is over her chest, over the obvious hardness of her nipples. 

Ushijima hesitates at the threshold briefly, worried she’s read Sakusa wrong. Sakusa marks her place in the book she’s reading and looks up with a smile. The tightness in Ushijima’s chest dissolves a little; Sakusa’s smiles are hard-earned. Conversely: Sakusa is far too indulgent when it comes to Ushijima—she has never turned Ushijima down and won’t start _now_ —if Ushijima committed homicide and needed to hide a body, Sakusa would have done it the day before.

“Come here,” Sakusa pats the space next to her and Ushijima takes her place easily.

One of the first things that surprised Ushijima was how easy it is to be with Sakusa. Somehow, the simplicity of their relationship with a net in between them had carried over into their easy friendship when Ushijima first moved to Tokyo for the Adlers and then eventually, into their dates; museum exhibitions and musicals and orchestras, dog parks and cat cafes, easy nights with Sakusa studying—and staying over—at Ushijima’s apartment. A silent call to challenge turned into one for companionship, and a steady answer in return, competition or not. 

Although—well—when it comes to sex, Sakusa does love laying out challenges. While Ushijima was chasing the heights of volleyball, soaring to the top with all the assuredness of an apex predator, Sakusa was grounding herself in the world—and its pleasures—around her. Sakusa’s countenance contradicts her core; at the heart of it, she’s a woman who loves widely and deeply. And while Sakusa was content to let Ushijima to lead—she’s always been eager to please, especially when it came to Sakusa—Ushijima herself hadn’t known there were things she craved until Sakusa had offered to show her. 

Ushijima _may_ seem weightless with the way she leaps to a challenge, but she carries hopes and dreams woven into the red of her flag, heavy on her shoulders; Rio is always a sore spot with her. Sakusa, on the other hand, is always happy to coax the weight off her shoulders, coax Ushijima out of her mind. Some days Sakusa does it quietly, patiently, fists clasped together across the net as Ushijima’s arm comes down at full strength and other days it is loud, demanding; Sakusa lays out a challenge— _come for me one more time Waka-chan, you can take more Waka-chan, you’re not allowed to come yet Waka-chan_ —and Ushijima is competitive, burns bright with the force of her want. And afterwards, when Ushijima is pliant and shivery, tucked against Sakusa’s chest, she forgets she ever carried a weight, to begin with.

Sakusa tugs her wordlessly into a kiss; it’s gentle, a homecoming, pulling Ushijima over her, Sakusa’s tongue parting Ushijima’s lips to curl against the back of her teeth, her fingers cool against Ushijima’s jaw. Ushijima presses closer eagerly, quiet and shivering under Sakusa’s mouth as Sakusa takes inventory of Ushijima with her mouth, her hands; a constellation of chaste kisses over Ushijima’s face, Ushijima’s neck, threaded together by Sakusa’s trailing touch. Ushijima is so pliant under Sakusa—fingers gentle on the curve of Sakusa’s waist, mouth open and panting—that it doesn’t take her long to guess what Ushijima is after. 

“Does my Wakako want to get fucked today?” Sakusa asks, the corners of her mouth curling into a satisfied smirk when Ushijima inhales sharply.

The thing about Sakusa is that for all her bluntness, she is painfully considerate of Ushijima’s wants, hovering over Ushijima as she cards a hand through Ushijima’s hair, fanning it across the pillow. It’s an outstretched hand and Ushijima takes to it like a drowning woman; a lifeline keeping her afloat in the pool of her wanting. 

“Yes, but I want…” Ushijima trails off. 

What _does_ she want? Ushijima tenses up, tongue heavy in her mouth, body thrumming with a desire she doesn’t have the words for just yet. Sakusa is quiet, contemplative. Her hands trail up Ushijima’s back and to the nape of her neck, nails dragging reassuringly against her scalp, Ushijima leaning into the touch. 

“Tell me about your day after practice?”

Between Sakusa’s repeated motion and the question, Ushijima relaxes; Sakusa has given Ushijima an opening without realizing it. 

“I went to the dentist. Her gloves tasted a lot like the ones you use sometimes. I picked up the dry cleaning.” 

The blandness of her delivery amuses Ushijima a little, she might as well have said _hello, awful weather today, I have errands to run, I like when my girlfriend has her gloved fingers in my mouth, it was nice seeing you, have a good day._ Sakusa’s eyes narrow. 

“Shorts off, Wakako-kun,” Sakusa pats the flank of Ushijima’s thigh, Ushijima climbing off to shimmy both her shorts and underwear off. Warmth spreads across her face when Sakusa reaches for the drawer, pulling out a pair of gloves and one of their vibrators. 

Sakusa drags her eyes over Ushijima’s body like it’s her due, lingering on the curve of Ushijima’s tits under the tight shirt, and then tuts when she catches sight of Ushijima’s bare pussy; Ushijima is slightly humiliated at how the small noise of displeasure has her on edge again, static plates in motion again. 

“I only said shorts off baby, are you that eager for it?” 

Ushijima flushes and murmurs an apology, tugging her panties back on, throat dry. 

“How do you want me?” Ushijima asks. 

Sakusa moves them around, sitting up against the headboard and making Ushijima straddle one of her thighs. Ushijima’s throat always goes dry when she’s made to acknowledge the difference in their builds; between Ushijima’s genetics, diet and training regimen, she’s rounded with curves and obvious muscle, blessed with an ample chest that Sakusa loves. Sakusa, on the other hand, is lean, strength hidden in the subtle bulge of her biceps and thighs, the tightness of her core. Ushijima can feel the flex of Sakusa’s muscles between the soft insides of her thighs, and despite the position giving Ushijima a height advantage, Ushijima feels like she has voluntarily bared her jugular to a starving predator.

“What do you want, Wakako-kun? You can tell me about the dentist while you grind on my thigh, maybe it’ll help you make up your mind.” 

“Can I touch you?” Ushijima asks. Her voice isn’t fractured with need yet but it’s hoarse, and Sakusa hasn’t even touched her. 

“No, I don’t think so. You can keep your hands behind your back.” 

Ushijima nods, crossing her wrists at the small of her back. The position pushes Ushijima’s chest forward, ample tits in Sakusa’s face and Ushijima’s face burns. Sakusa looks at her expectantly while pulling her gloves on, the snap of them against her skin enough to have Ushijima shivery, thighs flexing around Sakusa’s own as her insides clench. 

Ushijima feels painfully _empty._

“It was the sound at first,” Ushijima says, low like a confession. “I had my eyes closed and it made me think of you. The way you… fuck me with gloves on sometimes.” Ushijima’s voice is surprisingly steady in comparison to the short stop-starts of her hips against Sakusa’s thigh. 

“So it’s about touching you with them on?” Sakusa’s hands come up to Ushijima’s chest, squeezing her tits together, rolling her nipples between her fingers, Ushijima exhaling sharply and grinding down harder. “I can’t help if you’re not being clear, Wakako-kun.”

“No,” Ushijima exhales. “I will be good, please.”

“It was not just about touch. The gloves tasted exactly like the ones you use and I… I wanted you there. I wanted your fingers on my skin, in my mouth,” Ushijima falters, flushing even deeper. She’s not usually one to swear out loud. “I wanted your fingers in my pussy.” 

The confession escapes Ushijima in a rush and Sakusa’s eyes _sparkle._

“You want me to take you apart and take care of you after that badly, Waka-chan?” 

Sakusa’s hands are tight on Ushijima’s waist, her gloved hands far too smooth and intimately familiar on Ushijima’s skin as Sakusa makes Ushijima bear down on her thigh—her strength is often understated next to Ushijima’s—guiding the rhythm of her hips. The friction is so much better like this, Ushijima quickly becoming aware of _just_ how wet she is between her legs. Ushijima nods; her voice would crack around an assent otherwise.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Sakusa demands, her touch feather-light over Ushijima’s skin, Ushijima arching towards it even as she squeezes her eyes shut, parting her lips.

Sakusa pushes a finger into her mouth, resting on her tongue. Ushijima’s mouth begins to flood with saliva at the taste of them, the weight of them; Sakusa pumping her finger in and out of Ushijima’s mouth in an approximation of what she does to Ushijima’s cunt. 

It’s humiliating how fast a trail of drool from the corner of Ushijima’s mouth and down her neck makes itself known, the air cool against it. Ushijima’s jaw is already beginning to feel sore from keeping her mouth open wide, tongue sticking out lewdly, as Ushijima ruts even harder against the muscle of Sakusa’s thigh, feeling the way it jumps against her skin. Her underwear is absolutely soaked through and it does nothing to give her friction; Sakusa is staring intensely at the wet spot on it, Ushijima making a soft noise of desperation. Other things a lifetime of playing opposite Sakusa has conditioned her into: Sakusa looks at Ushijima, gleam in her eyes and Ushijima checks out to a place no one else can follow.

Sakusa notices, coaxing another finger into Ushijima’s mouth and on Ushijima’s next rut forward, Sakusa abruptly pushes her fingers in hard and down against the back of Ushijima’s tongue. A choked sound escapes Ushijima, throat closing around Sakusa’s fingers, cunt clenching in time around nothing and it’s the proverbial feather, breaking Ushijima’s resolve, her silence, shoulders dropping like a cut bowstring, a gasp around Sakusa’s fingers.

Grinding on Sakusa’s thigh is not enough anymore, and judging by the curl of Sakusa’s mouth, she knows that. Sakusa’s fingers press down even harder on Ushijima’s tongue and the taste of latex sends another pulse of heat through her, another wave of slickness, Ushijima moaning around them. She’s drooling profusely at this point; saliva soaked into the neckline of Sakusa’s thin shirt, the material rubbing over Ushijima’s sensitive nipples.

“You’re so desperate to come you’re getting yourself so dirty, Waka-chan,” The cool detachment in Sakusa’s voice makes Ushijima clench again, rutting even harder to mimic the feeling of getting fucked, getting filled, brows furrowing. “You know how I feel about dirty girls, you’ll need to clean up after.”

Ushijima nods frantically, a protest caught in her throat—she’s good, she’s _clean_ —when Sakusa pulls her fingers out, only to whine when Sakusa flicks her nipples and _pinches_ , Ushijima curling in on herself. 

“Back straight, Wakako, be good for me,” Sakusa purrs.

Ushijima exhales, sitting up again despite Sakusa alternating between massaging Ushijima’s tits and pinching her nipples, even twisting them once or twice. Ushijima tips her head back; she’s slick with sweat everywhere, her shoulders are sore from keeping her hands in position, hungry for so much more, fraying at the edges. She’s pliant when Sakusa pushes three fingers into her mouth this time, tongue laving between the vee of them as best as she can. Ushijima is so focused on Sakusa’s fingers that she barely registers Sakusa’s wandering hand until it’s digging into the flesh of her thigh, Ushijima tensing in anticipation of a spank only to groan when Sakusa bunches the fabric of her underwear between her ass cheeks and pulls tight, the thin fabric turning into a makeshift crotch rope. The friction is overwhelming, Ushijima stilling out of fear from coming like this, empty and craving.

“I didn’t say you could stop, Waka-chan.” 

There’s a knowing gleam in Sakusa’s eyes that Ushijima wants to wipe off, one that sets off years worth of competitive instinct. At the end of the day, they remain Ushijima Wakako, ex-Shiratorizawa captain, ace and Sakusa Kiyomi, ex-Itachiyama outside hitter, ace; Ushijima meets Sakusa’s eyes head-on as she grinds down resolutely despite the fact that she’s shuddering, aching to touch Sakusa.

“It is not enough,” she mutters. Sakusa raises a brow, amused. 

“Get off my thigh, Waka-chan,” Sakusa orders, maneuvering Ushijima off her lap and onto her haunches.

Sakusa gives her a once-over, and Ushijima is acutely aware of how she looks—the trail of drool down her neck, nipples peeking under her shirt, the fabric of her underwear darkened and askew—sitting up straighter for Sakusa, spreading her legs wider. Sakusa stares her down like a predator starved—eyes darker than usual, blown with desire, the flex of her hands—it’s enough to have Ushijima exhaling heavily, leaning back on her hands as she shimmies her underwear off her legs. 

Ushijima is thrilled when Sakusa leans forward and knees her way between Ushijima’s legs, pushing her onto her back and pressing down on her thighs like a perverse version of a butterfly stretch, thumbs kneading into the muscle of Ushijima’s thighs. They’re so close to her cunt that Ushijima _wants_ to whine, abandon what remains of her self-restraint. She _does_ groan when Sakusa spreads the lips of her cunt with the tips of her fingers, hips bucking up instinctively only to gasp out a mangled _Kiyomi_ when Sakusa brings her palm down over Ushijima’s cunt with a sharp smack. Distantly, Ushijima is aware that it’s barely ten percent of the power Sakusa can put into a spike. 

“If you want me to fuck you Waka-chan, you’re going to take it how I give it to you,” Sakusa’s hand stays there, Ushijima’s clit between her fingers. 

Ushijima knows what’s going to happen before Sakusa even starts, shuddering when Sakusa glides her fingers up and down and up and down, fingers pressed together on the downstroke and spread apart on the upstroke, keeping Ushijima strung with the barest of touches to her clit. Her mind goes hazy from the repetitive motion, fingers fisted into the sheets. With the gloves on—and with how wet Ushijima is—it’s too slick, too smooth, not enough for her to come, or even come close. 

When Sakusa pushes two fingers in with a loud squelch, Ushijima moans. She feels like a tectonic fault on the edge, toeing closer and closer to the line of excessive stress, a rubber band stretched too thin and primed to snap back into itself surrounded by Sakusa and the scent of her. Sakusa’s smile is indulgent, delighted as she grinds her palm against Ushijima’s clit and fucking her shallowly with her fingers. It feels like Ushijima’s heart has migrated to her pussy, pulsing around Sakusa’s fingers, trying to coax more. 

“Fuck, Waka-chan, you’re dripping,” Sakusa marvels, pulling her fingers out, gloves unmistakably shiny as she spread her fingers in front of Ushijima’s face, threads of slick webbing Sakusa’s fingers.

A groan rumbles out of Ushijima, parting her lips wordlessly. Sakusa takes the cue, pushing her fingers into Ushijima’s mouth, mouth agape at the sight of Ushijima licking the taste of herself off Sakusa’s fingers. There’s a small part that wishes these were Sakusa’s bare fingers, with the way Sakusa gets almost feral with the desire to fuck Ushijima.

“You get so easy for me, Waka-chan, I love watching you like this,” Sakusa pulls her fingers out to brace herself over Ushijima on her knees, leaning in for a kiss.

It’s wet and sloppy and too much tongue, Sakusa licking into her mouth, chasing after the taste of Ushijima, pushing Ushijima’s shirt over her tits, pulling away to push them together, thumbing at Ushijima’s nipples. Ushijima sighs, canting her hips up once, twice, settling when Sakusa pinches her nipples in warning.

They will always be rooted in some measure of give and take, is the thing. Theoretically, Ushijima is strong enough to overwhelm Sakusa—and she _has_ , sitting on Sakusa’s face and riding her tongue until she comes—but there is more fun in this, pliant because she _wants_ to be held down by Sakusa and fucked out of her mind; a spike matched by a clean receive, a silent competition of who is going to walk off the court with more points, who is going to walk out of bed with trembling legs. 

“I need to touch you,” Ushijima pleads. The sheets are soft but they’re not the softness of Sakusa’s religiously moisturized curls or skin.

“You can, Wakako-chan,” Sakusa smiles, and there’s no hidden intention, just unbridled affection.

Ushijima slides her hands up Sakusa’s waist, pushing her shirt off, pulling her back in for another kiss. This one is more breath, their lips barely touching, exhaling into each other’s mouths, one of Ushijima’s hands cupping Sakusa’s ass and the other tangled in her curls. When Sakusa pulls away, she presses her forehead against Ushijima’s. Close like this, Ushijima can feel the heat of Sakusa’s pussy against her abdomen and she _wants_ — 

“Do you want me to fuck you with the gloves on or off?” Sakusa whispers. 

The question goes off like a gunshot in the room. 

“On,” Ushijima demands. 

Sakusa nods, kisses Ushijima chastely before sitting up and shuffling back between Ushijima’s legs, tugging them over her thighs. The difference in the span of them makes Ushijima’s throat dry, the unmistakable buzzing of the vibrator Sakusa fished out earlier making her throat _even_ dryer. Ushijima spreads her legs wider without being prompted to Sakusa’s soft, marveling sounds and cries out as Sakusa glides the vibrator between her folds.

Too late Ushijima realizes it’s the suction vibrator and she’s not going to last, tensing up at the first setting as Sakusa drags it lower and over her clit, Ushijima’s legs snapping close but forced open by Sakusa between them. Sakusa tuts, grins at her wickedly and pushes two fingers into Ushijima with ease, scissoring them every time she pulls out. The angle _would_ be awkward but the only time Sakusa ignores taking care of her joints is when she’s got her fingers in Ushijima, something Ushijima is _extremely_ happy about when Sakusa adds another finger.

Sakusa keeps them there, bumping the vibrator up two settings, Ushijima’s back arching, ankles crossing against the small of Sakusa’s back. There’s no room for embarrassment between the slick noises of Ushijima getting fucked and her breathy exhales; if there’s anything left in her Sakusa is steadily fucking it out, Ushijima clenching around Sakusa’s fingers desperately every time she pulls them out. Ushijima wants to stay in this space, tottering on the edge, hyperaware of the taste of latex in her mouth, Sakusa warm between her thighs.

“ _Kiyomi_ ,” Ushijima’s voice cracks.

“Close?” Sakusa asks, her voice still painfully steady.

Maybe the monster generation is the right moniker; after all, monsters are always hungry and Sakusa is a veritable monster, eyes trained on where Ushijima is stretched around her fingers. The vibrator is turned up another setting and Ushijima bites down on her lips, Sakusa watches her like a predator on the prowl, one that knows it’s prey is weakened, preparing for the killing blow. 

“I want to come with your fingers in my mouth,” Ushijima pants out. “Please, Kiyomi, _please.”_

Sakusa swears, a low _fuck_ that echoes like a gong in Ushijima’s cranium, rattling her as Sakusa pulls the toy away, ignoring Ushijima’s cry and pushing the fingers of her now free hand into Ushijima’s mouth. It’s an awkward position, but Sakusa holds it anyway, fingers screwing in and out of Ushijima, palm grinding against Ushijima’s clit, fingers heavy on Ushijima’s tongue. Ushijima never really knows what she’s going to get from Sakusa; some days Sakusa takes her time and keeps her on edge, and other days Sakusa makes Ushijima come so many times Ushijima loses coherency. 

There is one constant, though. Sakusa loves watching Ushijima come.

It’s probably leftover from their years of watching each other on the courts— _I am watching you and I will_ demand _the best of you_ —a call translated into the bedroom. There’s no difference here, Sakusa hovering by Ushijima’s side, one hand fucking Ushijima soundly and another in an awkward angle just so Ushijima can suck on Sakusa’s fingers, looking down at her with so much tenderness in her eyes Ushijima feels unmoored, adrift.

Except Sakusa pulls her fingers out of Ushijima’s mouth, brushing aside her noise of protest to kiss Ushijima and Ushijima melts into it, sighing, rocking her hips in time with Sakusa’s thrusts. Sakusa doesn’t try to stop her this time, coaxes her along with whispered praise and her lips against as much skin as she can reach, dragging her teeth along the length of Ushijima’s neck. 

“You can come whenever you want Waka-chan, I’m here.”

 _I’m here, I’m here_ , it rings. _I’m here across the net. I’m here next to you_. A call to attention, a promise. And it tips over, stress exceeding friction, the sharp snap of two plates grinding along a fault in sudden motion—Ushijima comes at the same time Sakusa bites down on her shoulder, quiet but shuddering all over with it, cunt fluttering around Sakusa’s fingers, all the fight going out of her. It radiates from the center of her, Sakusa steadily circling her clit, Ushijima bucking her hips and it’s all starting to feel a little too much too soon with how sensitive she’s been all evening.

“Can you give me another Waka-chan?” Sakusa’s mouth brushes over her cheekbones.

Ushijima’s brows furrow, thinking about it for a moment before nodding, moving her hips in time with Sakusa’s hand. Sakusa goes slow, only uses two fingers, dragging them against the front of Ushijima’s walls, palm still insistent on Ushijima’s clit. Then she ducks down, wraps her lips around one of Ushijima’s nipples, teeth grazing over them and Ushijima comes with a low groan, aftershock of an earthquake, a cosine wave, riding out her orgasm until she’s shivery, Sakusa’s hand trapped between their bodies. 

“Sit on my face,” Ushijima slurs. “Please.”

Sakusa laughs—bright and clear—Ushijima will never get over how much of a delightful surprise it is every time. 

“You’re going to pass out, Waka-chan.” 

“I won’t,” Ushijima insists, determined. She knows her limits. 

Sakusa makes a huge production out of her reluctance—her penchant for theatrics could rival Atsumu any day, truth be told—stripping and disposing of the gloves, shimmying off her underwear, climbing over Ushijima’s face. Ushijima runs her palms along the outsides of her thigh, along the soft hairs of her skin and up to her waist, reverent, pulling Sakusa down onto her mouth with a firm grip, licking a broad stroke along her slit with the same firmness. Sakusa’s moans—always the more vocal one, too—echo around the room, pushing Ushijima’s bangs off her forehead before tangling them in her hair. Ushijima loses herself in the repeated motion of tonguing Sakusa’s clit, palming at her small breasts, craning her neck to fuck her tongue into Sakusa.

In the end, Sakusa comes from rutting against Ushijima’s tongue, muttering a litany of praise that’s enough to have Ushijima worked up all over again despite having already come twice. Ushijima thinks she’s very sexy like this, braced over her face, strong thighs that could suffocate her if Sakusa wanted to; it feels very juvenile to want her girlfriend all the time, but it’s the truth. Sakusa notices, as she always does, raising her eyebrow. 

“No,” Ushijima blurts out, before Sakusa can even ask.

Sakusa smiles, big and teasing, swinging off Ushijima’s face and pressing herself against Ushijima. Anyone else would probably have an aneurysm if it was even insinuated that Sakusa Kiyomi enjoys sweaty, languid, post-sex cuddles, but Ushijima is not anyone. 

“You’re so sweet Wakako-kun,” Sakusa sighs, lips trailing along Ushijima’s jaw. “I can’t believe you conditioned yourself into getting horny just for me.” 

It takes Ushijima longer a moment to process Sakusa’s statement and then she frowns, cheeks hot. 

“I am not… I did not…” Ushijima stammers then sighs. “Yes, I suppose I have been conditioned into finding your tendencies… sensual.”

Sakusa snorts, an inelegant sound that brings a smile to Ushijima’s face, draping an arm around Ushijima’s waist and pressing even closer to her side. Deep down, Ushijima is considering changing dental care providers.

“Sensual is a way to describe it, I guess,” Sakusa teases. And then she frowns. “We forgot the towel. Again.”

“So we did,” Ushijima blinks. “I can change the sheets?” 

“I’ve got something better, you can shower and cook dinner and I’ll change them. I need to separate the laundry, anyway.”

Ushijima hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of Sakusa’s head. Leave it to Sakusa to have a meticulous laundry system. They’re unlikely to move in the next 20 minutes—Ushijima makes a mental note to remember the towels next time, and she will probably forget—they may even fall asleep. 

“By the way, Miya won today,” Sakusa grumbles. Ushijima has to bite down on her smile; Sakusa only calls Atsumu by her family name when Sakusa has lost one of their silly competitions. 

“What was it this time?” 

“Hinata-san scored more points off Motoya,” Sakusa presses her lips together, on her way to pouting. 

“What does Hinata-san have to do with today’s competition?” Ushijima asks sincerely. She didn’t know Hinata has been roped into them, although it makes sense if Atsumu and Hinata are together. Maybe Ushijima should get involved too, if it means tipping Sakusa’s favour. 

Sakusa pouts, mumbling. “I bet you’d score more service aces forgetting you only had a half-day today.” 

Ushijima frowns then, unable to help herself, chuckles. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Definitely tomorrow,” Sakusa says, nuzzling closer, half her body draped over Ushijima’s.

Volleyball is marked by winners and losers, loss pressurized so much so it crystallizes into a diamond, a win. Ushijima has lost as many matches against Sakusa as she has won. This—because that’s what it comes down to at the end of the day, right? Love?—cocooned in their sheets, doesn’t taste like loss. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> say [hi](https://twitter.com/mooninopulence)? leave a comment or yell at me i guess


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